


Let The Altars Shine

by comeonovervalkyrie



Category: Bat Out Of Hell: The Musical - Steinman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 17:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeonovervalkyrie/pseuds/comeonovervalkyrie
Summary: Summary: After her daughter has run away with the leader of the Lost, Sloane is left alone with her thoughts as Falco leaves in pursuit.Trigger Warning:Drawing on arms, mentions of death, slight mention of abuse.





	Let The Altars Shine

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: The NA Tour made some changes to the top of Act 2 and the staging in HCW; which is where this came from.  
> Also, my very first fic ever!  
> Edited by the same lovely human who does all my edits. <3

Every nerve in her body trembled with apprehension. A nervous energy tainted the tower since Falco sounded the emergency alarm. An hourly bed check had not only found their daughter’s bed rumpled and empty, but a glimpse of pink pyjamas disappearing into the night accompanied by the blond haired rebellious leader of The Lost.  
Nurse Zahara tried to warn the lovers, while Sloane attempted to distract her husband. It was to no use; he barged into Raven’s room right behind the nurse. Her husband may only be a foot taller than her, but he was stronger. Gripping his arm to hold him back held to no avail. As she paced back and forth, a gentle hand ghosted over her arm where a purple bruise was beginning to form. The King had flung her off as easily as a fly, before storming through the tower; alerting the guards and issuing Strat’s arrest warrant. Sloane tried to convince him, to console him, to seduce him; and when that didn’t work she had begged like a hungry dog in search of food scraps. But none of it had worked.  
Rows of militia exited the tower in pursuit of the motorbike that stole away the Princess. Even Zahara was nowhere to be found. Sloane had been left by herself, a lonely queen, to protect the almighty tower and await the return of its most precious inhabitant.  
Her thoughts were deafening, her heart raced. ‘Raven is eighteen — she reminded herself. She was a young woman now, with choices of her own to make. Leaving with the rebellious leader was one of those choices — but that didn’t make her heart ache any less. Sloane may not be a sentimental woman, she had grown a thick skin throughout the years — growing numb to her feelings, but, sometimes, when she looked at the youngest Falco, she still saw the tiny bundle with a shock of inky hair and big emerald eyes.  
From a pregnancy she hadn’t planned, to her greatest and only companion. Locked in the same tower, by the same miserable man, the mother and daughter had a deep bond. Now, her daughter had the chance to be free and in love. Though she would miss her deeply, Sloane prayed Strat and Raven would escape successfully, to somewhere Falco could never find them.  
The fiery red-haired woman’s worry and heartache was not just for her daughter. As she desperately stared out the window into the cold, Obsidian night, she allowed herself a moment of reflection on the lanky blond boy who shared a part of her past. It seemed almost poetic that Raven was making the choice Sloane had all those years ago. Once, when she was younger, and he, before the others knew him as ‘Strat’, they had been wild and reckless. But, she had chosen comfort and security over her freedom.  
Now, she realized she had made the right choice. Falco had always been meant to be hers; just as Strat was meant to be Raven’s.  
The slam of the door announced her husband’s arrival, pulling Sloane from her thoughts. He was maniacal, waving his hands, “This will show them once and for all – No one messes with my family!” He grinned wickedly as he told her of his plan; how he was gathering up the Lost at the very moment. Maybe she should have listened, but once she realized Raven wasn’t with him, she had to sit down. Her legs buckling, nearly collapsing underneath her from relief.  
They made it.  
Raven and Strat must have made it.  
For Falco to return without the Princess in tow, had to mean she was beyond his reach and safe.  
Sloane studied her husband. He paced up and down the floor, following the path she had taken earlier that night. A glass of scotch clutched in his right hand as he gesticulated with his left. Sloane was reminded of another time, long ago and far away, where she had sat on this couch with newborn Raven, watching her ambitious husband pace back and forth as he planned to ‘Make Obsidian Great Again.’ She had been proud then, blinded by love. But now, a stranger stood in front of her.  
The same angry stranger she had lived with for years – Sloane couldn’t remember when this stranger had arrived, but she knew he was there to stay. In the early years, she had hoped that the man she loved would make a reappearance. Now, she knew better. Sloane was trapped until the end of time with the man who wore her husband’s face.  
There wasn’t enough gin in the world for that, no matter how hard she tried. The thought drew her to her feet and she hastened towards the drink cart. Mistaking her sudden need for alcohol as a symptom of worry for their daughter, Falco stopped her with a large, harsh hand on her arm. She struggled to hide her desire to pull away.  
“She’ll be back,” he said in a tone that she knew he meant to be more reassuring than menacing. “She’ll be back and he will pay. Raven will never leave us again.” This time, she did flinch out of his grasp, and quickly downed a few fingers of gin.  
Zahara suddenly burst into the room, giving the Queen an excuse to move away from the King. The pair turned towards the nurse, with the expectation of news. Falco’s expression guarded, and the green eyes of his wife filled with anticipation. Sloane had always known Zahara’s secret, and was ready to receive the news that Strat and Raven had escaped and the Lost had once again, disappeared underground. One look at the other woman’s face, downcast with a tear track tracing her flushed cheek told Sloane everything she needed to know. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach as her husband walked towards the nurse, who was handing him a crumpled, white shirt. Before she even saw the bloodstains caked into the creases, tears flooded her dull eyes. This time, she didn’t make it to the couch; the wicked grin on Falco’s face turned her legs to mush. Unfolded, the shirt confirmed her fear; it was the one Strat had been wearing when he had escaped with Raven just hours ago.  
She could see Zahara’s mouth moving, could view her nails biting into the back of the couch for support. Her husband’s laughter filled the room, but the red-head could not hear, for the deafening white noise overtook her sense of hearing. The shirt held above his head like a trophy; his most prized possession. The straight gin threatened to make an appearance, but the woman forced it back down. Sloane stood up, blinking back her tears, and wrapping her robe tightly around herself.  
“R—Raven,” her voice stutters, shock continuing to wash over it. “Where is my Raven?” The sadness was quickly replaced with a panic that held her lungs in a vice. Where the hell was her daughter? Her own heartbeat thudded in her ears, tuning out whatever Falco was saying to her, and she dodged his outreached hand. Making a quick dash for the doorway before stopped solely by the arrival of her daughter. “— Baby, where have you been?”  
Sloane held Raven by the forearms, studying her face, relief surging through her. The girl was filthy; covered in motorcycle grease. There were scuffs on her jacket and boots, rips on her pink pyjamas; but the girl was smiling. Her hair was windblown, cheeks crimson from exertion, and her green eyes dazzled with hope — with love.  
She didn’t know.  
The mother quickly pulled her against her chest pressing a soft kiss to Raven’s forehead. What was about to be said was going to hurt the girl deeply, but she selfishly thanked whatever fates that had brought the princess safely home.  
“Moooom,” her voice annoyed, dragging out the word while a whine vibrated against Sloane’s collarbone. “Can’t breathe…” She reluctantly released the girl who dramatically struggled out of her arms. Two identical sets of green eyes met, and as Raven examined her mother, the sparkle in her eyes turned to confusion. Turning to the room for the first time, taking in the sight of Nurse Zahara crumpled on the edge of the couch. Then, in the corner, she saw a dark figure in the armchair.  
“ — What did you do?” Emerald flashed in anger, whirling towards her father. Falco slowly arose and opened his fist, revealing Strat’s bloodstained shirt. Stopping in her tracks, Obsidian’s Princess momentarily losing her balance.  
“I told you what would happen if you got involved with those kids,” he spat quietly. Sloane’s spine turned to ice as she remembered the threat made at supper.  
“Wh-What did you do?” Raven’s hands shook as she twisted them in the pockets of her leather jacket. She knew the answer, but she bravely held her father’s gaze as she trembled before him.  
“Your boyfriend is no longer with us,” he said simply, the victorious grin making Sloane’s stomach twirl and Raven sway. Turning away from her father, looking to the women behind her for some sort of confirmation. Sloane just nodded her head, her heart breaking for her daughter.  
“Strat’s dead,” Zahara’s voice low, but steady as she broke the news. “He was riding out towards the cliffs. He was going too fast… The bike spun out. It went over the edge and it took him with it.”  
“No!” The young girl’s eyes filled with tears. Sloane and Zahara both moved to comfort her, but Raven bolted up the stairs. The slam of her bedroom door echoed in the tense silence of the living room. The nurse exited through the kitchen leaving Sloane alone with Falco.  
The red-headed woman turned to look at the man across the room from her, he stood tall and proud. The grin on his lips as he held up the shirt not only made her stomach turn, but set something on fire within her.  
“What have you done?” her voice raised in pitch as she charged towards him.  
“How could you do this to her?”  
“She had to learn!” his voice cut her like the sharpest knife. “It isn’t safe for her out there.” Sloane trembled with rage. Her husband talked a good deal about protecting Raven, but she couldn’t name a single thing he’d done that had actually kept the girl safe.  
“Raven was safer with him than she has ever been with you!” The words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them as she pointed at the mangled shirt. His hand engulfed her wrist in a crushing grip and she saw his dark eyes flash dangerously.  
“I did what needed to be done.” She struggled to release her arm, but it only resulted in tightening the hold he had on her. “And now, they’re all going to pay!” He quickly released Sloane’s wrist and stalked out of the tower to where the militia were awaiting.  
She stumbled backwards, trying to pull herself together. At the foot of the stairs, she inhaled deeply, forcing air into her lungs. Heartstrings nearly snapped at the sound of soft sobs from the floor above. Wiping her face and straightening her robe, the woman made her way up the spiral staircase. Sloane knew helping her daughter was a lost cause; there was nothing she could do to ease the pain. All she could do now was make sure that Raven knew she wasn’t alone.  
Bracing herself for the worst, Sloane slowly pushed open Raven’s bedroom door. Her jacket was thrown on the floor, and nearby lay her pink pyjamas. The delicate vanity was littered with lit candles, and “STRAT” was scrawled in permanent marker above the delicate bed frame. Her daughter was curled on the marble flooring in the center of her room dressed in the boy’s red shirt, her ratty diary discarded beside her as she intently traced a marker up and down her left arm. If the youngest Falco had heard her mother come in, she gave no indication.  
Softly shutting the door behind her, Sloane slowly began to tidy up, keeping a watchful eye on Raven. The jacket was hung up, the boots taking their rightful place underneath it. The pink playsuit was folded and put away with the laundry — it only becoming a memory of her adventures through the streets of Obsidian. These tasks kept her mind calm as her daughter drew hearts over her wrists, lines up veins. She then sat quietly on the far edge of the bed, observing silently, but staying present.  
“M-Mom.” the whimpered name became a sob, and she watched as Raven crawled onto the bed, throwing herself into her arms — seeking the protection that only comes from within a mother. The bitter sting of tears pricked Sloane’s eyes and threatened to escape as she held the girl in her lap tightly. “It’s all my fault,” Raven choked out, hiding her face in her mother’s neck, seeking comfort she felt she didn’t deserve.  
“Baby, no…” Manicured fingers gently carded through dark locks, rubbing gentle circles on her back. Sloane murmured clichés and soothing words to her daughter, rocking her back and forth slightly.  
“If I hadn’t run away,” Raven pulled away, sniffling, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “Strat would still be alive.”  
This time, Sloane cried with her daughter, her own tears glittering in raven hair.  
Slowly, Raven’s sobs turned to sniffles, then sniffles to silence, and eventually the gentle relief of sleep took over. Sloane draped an extra blanket over Raven’s sleeping form, but continued to stroke her hair, as if smoothing the waves would fix her broken heart. Hours ticked by, and the cold grey dawn began to seep through the windows. Gently inching out from under her daughter, Sloane tucked a pillow under her head before going to close the delicate curtains. Raven would need more rest than the rising sun would allow. In the dark room, she turned back to face the bed.  
“I am so sorry, baby.” She whispered.  
Slowly, approaching the sleeping princess and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Raven stirred slightly at her touch, but her face remained in the peaceful mask of sleep. She hoped the girl would get a few more hours before having to face the hurt anew.  
Closing Raven’s door, Sloane stood in the hallway. She ached with her full body and soul. All she wanted was a few hours of darkness – to forget the night’s events. She didn’t need any dreams, she didn’t want to cry. She wanted the solace that only an undisturbed sleep could bring. Wearily, she stared down the door of the bedroom she shared with her husband. Though she couldn’t undo the choices made long ago; maybe she could make a new one tonight.  
Her broken heart froze over any need of running to him for comfort, and she stumbled into the guest room. Falling back on satin sheets, she was able to breathe easy knowing that for a few hours, at least, she had her own space. What tomorrow would bring was unknown, but she knew it would place her between father and daughter once again. She would need all her energy to support Raven tomorrow.  
Eyelids fell heavily against her tearstained cheeks, and Sloane eagerly gave in to the vast void of sleep which took her far away from her broken daughter, shattered marriage, and the image of a torn and twisted body of a blond haired boy at the foot of a burning bike.


End file.
